


Being Polite

by Gaqalesqua



Series: Kinktober 2019 [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Arthur's turn to suffer the tragic loss of his clothes, Blindfolds, Bondage, Edgeplay, F/M, Femdom, Gun Kink, Interrogation, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Knifeplay, Nora pulling out that scarcely-used soft domme persona, Older Woman/Younger Man, Roleplay, Sensory Deprivation, not The Coat tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 18:56:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaqalesqua/pseuds/Gaqalesqua
Summary: The Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel answers a few questions.Kinktober 2019 Day Two: Roleplay | Sensory Deprivation | Gun Play | Edgeplay | Knife Play | Bondage





	Being Polite

“So, the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel came down from his lofty abode and didn’t even think about the risks of taking a walk?”

He started. There was soft fabric covering his eyes, keeping him blind, and wrapped around his mouth, trapping the furious words he wanted to spit out to whoever had _dared_ to tie him down to this chair and rob him of his eyes and his speech.

“I guess when you come flying in declaring your intentions are peaceful despite the flock of vertibirds filling the sky, you don’t tend to have the capacity for concern, do you?”

His captor sounded feminine. Her voice was warm despite the condescending drawl, and the huskiness added a sensuality to it that he would have enjoyed in any other situation.

Hell, he would have enjoyed all of this in any other situation.

She must have been quite close, because when he heard movement, it didn’t take long for slender, leather-clad fingers to tug at the gag and pull it down, freeing his mouth.

“Whoever you are, I’m giving you one chance to let me go,” he growled.

She laughed. “What, waste all that effort getting you here just to allow you to walk free?” Something solid pressed lightly on his thigh. If he had to guess, it felt like a shoe, a boot of some kind. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve got people who are worried about you and your flying chariot, Elder Maxson. So on their behalf, we’re going to talk.”

“Talk,” he repeated. “Let me guess. If I don’t answer correctly, or in a way you deem acceptable, you’re going to involve pain in this…_discussion_.”

A hand grabbed his jaw, and pulled him firmly upright in his chair. “That’s a waste of time,” she told him calmly. “Ineffectual. Barbaric.” Her thumb ran briefly over his lower lip.

Arthur snarled. He had missed his chance to bite her, but he wouldn’t be so lax next time. “So this is your excuse to have me at your mercy,” he guessed, even as his only response was a soft laugh. “Under the pretence of gathering intel.”

“Not entirely. What happens depends on if you answer my questions,” she said.

“And if I don’t?” he asked.

A thoughtful, _playful_ hum filled the air. “We’ll see.” The boot on his thigh shifted a little further down, closer to his knee. “So, what does the Brotherhood of Steel want in the Commonwealth?”

Arthur’s lip curled. “You could’ve learned that by asking any Knight on patrol without needing to lift a finger.”

“And if I wanted to hear it from them, I’d have asked,” she shot back. “Your people follow their orders, and you’re the one who gives them. So tell me, what dragged you all this way north?”

“Our objective is the Institute,” Arthur growled. “It’s not a secret.”

“So defensive,” she tutted. “Relax, Elder. I’m making sure I cover my bases. And if it’s all so _obvious_, then there’s really no need to be so _cagey_ with me.”

He bristled. “You _kidnapped _me. Did you expect pleasantries?”

Her foot shifted again, the tip of her toe stroking up his thigh, towards his hipbone. Arthur tensed, waiting for a blow that never came. She simply circled, as he tried to even his breathing.

“Actually, yes, I expect you to answer all my questions using the manners you must have learned at some point,” she said. “And if you start being rude, well…”

Something cold and metal touched his jaw where her fingers had been, and Arthur stilled. A wave of cold crashed through him. And there was heat, too, at the base of his spine, as the gun traced down his neck and halted at his collar.

He tensed. “You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t shoot me.”

“Not anywhere vital,” she assured him.

The gun pulled away and Arthur took deep breaths, trying to calm his raging heartbeat. The pressure of her boot moved _closer_, running along his inner thigh. He gritted his teeth as the brief burst of adrenaline from having the gun to his throat seemed to drop to the apex of his thighs and _harden_.

“You’re right,” she finally said, “I could’ve gotten that answer from any of your soldiers. But, I couldn’t get the next one.”

Arthur glared in the direction of her voice. “Then quit wasting my time and _ask_.”

“I said, _manners_.”

Her foot slipped off his thigh, the warmth of her body rolled over him as she came closer, and he realised he was panting as those leather-clad fingers reached his collar and unbuckled it, exposing his neck.

“Wait,” he breathed, “what are you…”

“You seem to have a little trouble thinking,” she murmured, her lips brushing his ear. “That collar looked pretty tight. Hopefully you can breathe a little freer now. All that oxygen will help you remember to be more polite next time.”

“This is your game?” he demanded.

“If the suit’s causing the same problem as your collar, I can cut that off too,” she warned. “Your decision, Elder.”

Arthur tensed, and his cock _twitched_. “You wouldn’t _dare_.”

Something else pressed against his neck. Arthur stilled without hesitation. Even blindfolded, he recognised the cold edge of a knife. A gun had safeties. She could have left the weapon unloaded this whole time. But a knife…

The flat of the knife dragged down his neck, and then it was bracing against the edge of his suit. The fabric parted under the blade, opening up to expose him to her.

“How’s your breathing?” she drawled, as the blade came back up to tease at his neck. Arthur could feel the warmth of her body nearby now. She smelt like sea-salt and gunpowder. There was a hint of ozone there too. And something else. Something flowery.

“Fine,” he ground out.

She cleared her throat. “Let’s try this again. Except you’re going to call me ‘ma’am’ at the end of every answer, understood?”

“Yes,” he growled.

The knife dragged down his neck, just enough to leave a small scratch, and then it reached his chest as the gun jabbed into his throat.

His captor sighed. “Try again.”

Arthur swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

The barrel moved away, and he heard the _clank_ of it being set down, but the knife remained, gently teasing through the hair on his chest. More of that heat rushed through him. His cock was pressing against his suit now and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. If his _problem_ was obvious, his captor said nothing.

“So, say you find our boogeyman after 200 years of the rest of us searching fruitlessly. What next?” she asked.

Arthur sighed. “We’re going to blow it up, _obviously_.”

The sensation of the suit opening up to his navel jolted him, and she cleared her throat. “You forgot to say ‘ma’am’.”

His jaw clenched. “We’re going to blow it up, _ma’am_.”

She sighed. “Is that your idea of being polite? You’re not going to like the consequences if you keep on running your smart mouth."

“I answered your question,” he retorted. “Ma’am,” he added hurriedly.

The knife cut a little bit further, reaching the hem of his boxers. A lazy humming met his ears, and then he became acutely aware that her head was close to his. As if she predicted his sudden urge to headbutt her, a hand slipped into his hair and closed around like a vice.

“You must really want me to say ‘screw the questions’ and cut this all off, then free you and watch as you walk out of here with your suit all ripped up like that,” she said softly. “I can do that. I can leave you here to contact your ship and get picked up in nothing but that coat.”

He bared his teeth. “Don’t. Ma’am.”

“Manners,” she reminded him.

Arthur exhaled heavily. “Please.”

She seemed amused. “All right. But if you want to keep the rest of that suit intact, and maybe your dignity too, do as you’re told and answer my questions.”

Arthur clenched his fists, and nodded. “Yes. Ma’am.”

She slid away. The hand released his hair. “Good boy.”

His cock _throbbed_. Arthur cursed under his breath, turning his head aside as though she’d slapped him, and swallowed.

“So,” her voice was softer, but with an edge that advised him not to argue, “when you’re done saving us from the big bad Institute, Elder, what’s the plan? Are you going to stay in the Commonwealth and rule your new kingdom? Or will you go back home?”

“We leave, ma’am,” Arthur ground out. A curious ‘huh’ was the only answer he got to that for a while. He clenched his jaw. “Was that answer not satisfactory…ma’am?”

“More unexpected.” The knife didn’t move from its location. “You show up, fuck some stuff up, and then just fly away?”

“What _were_ you expecting?” he asked. “Ma’am.”

“You don’t seem the type not to leave your marks on a place,” she pointed out. “I didn’t know if I was going to have to deal with more of you.”

“What do you mean, ‘deal with more of us’?” Arthur repeated.

The knife nicked at his boxers. “Next time I have to ask you to show some manners, it’s going to get a little colder for you.”

His brow furrowed. “Colder? Ma’am?”

“Colder, as in, you’re going to lose more clothes,” she said.

Arthur swallowed. “…yes, ma’am.”

“See how nice this is when you’re polite?” she sighed.

Arthur’s lip curled, but he nodded. The cold barrel was abruptly pressing against his chest again, and with every moment that he stayed silent, the gun dropped a little lower, until it was braced against his ribs. Arthur inhaled sharply. There was no way she couldn’t see the erection straining at his boxers but she still didn’t say a word about it.

“_Manners_, Elder.” The knife cut through his boxers and some of the pressure was relieved. “Is this really how you want this to go?”

“None of this is how I _want_ this to go, _ma’am_,” he bit out. “But I don’t exactly have a _choice_.”

She cut the other side of his underwear, and then Arthur was twitching, body suddenly alert and on edge as those gloves stroked against his hipbones when she grabbed the useless scrap of white fabric and slipped it out from beneath him, tossing it aside.

“Did I ask you to give me any Brotherhood secrets that would cause your organisation trouble?” she asked.

“No.” His jaw clenched.

The clatter of weapons hitting a desk was followed by cool air kissing his shoulders as she dragged his suit and coat down to where his arms were laid against the arms of the chair.

“You have a damn near religious devotion to stubbornness.” Her fingertip trailed down his chest. “And I see most of this was bluster to hide what it is you’re _really_ feeling.” The leather reached his stomach. “In lieu of that, I have another question.”

“I’m done playing that game,” Arthur snarled.

Or he tried to. A breathless edge sneaked into his voice and rendered him expectant and keening as she stopped just above where his cock was jutting up from between his thighs.

“Sure.” Her hand ghosting around his erection was almost _tangible_. “But I’m not.”

Arthur clenched his fists, just as her palm stroked over his cock. A strangled gasp escaped him at the brush of the soft leather over the sensitive flesh.

“So, here’s my question,” she murmured. “Do you want this?”

Arthur groaned, his head falling back. Her other hand curled into his hair, the warmth of her body getting closer, and closer, until her leg brushed his as she knelt up on his lap, her hand still gripping him tightly.

“I won’t answer that,” he panted.

Her fingers curled tighter in his hair. “No?” she asked. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t _have_ to, _ma’am_,” he breathed.

The woman slipped from his lap. He heard her grasp something from the table, then return to him. Her body was warm and soft against his. And then her gun was cold on the underside of his jaw.

Arthur twitched, visibly, tangibly, against her thigh.

“Really?” she chuckled. “I guess I’d better find a way to get it out of you, then.”

“You think I can’t handle one woman?” Arthur growled. “Do your worst.”

Her fingers twisted back into his hair, and tugged his neck back to expose it. The gun followed.

Arthur inhaled sharply. He was so hard it hurt. The scents of sea-salt and Commonwealth flowers were filling his lungs and doing nothing to cool his arousal. She blew a gentle breath against his skin, and it was enough to make him jump.

“You can’t, and I will,” she promised.

Her mouth found his neck, teeth scratching at the flesh until Arthur was trembling beneath her, eyes tightly shut beneath the blindfold. Each sharp nip was like a bolt of pleasure, and she wasn’t shy with her bites. He tensed against his bindings, but that only made it _worse_, and when he relaxed, nips became kisses. They left damp marks along where she had bitten him, slightly sticky imprints of her lips left against his flesh.

_Damp? Saliva? No…lipstick?_

He was so momentarily distracted by the kisses that he forgot her hand was around his cock until she began to pump her fist back and forth. Arthur _strained_ at his bindings, trying not to lean into the gun as she grabbed him at the base and then drew her hand up to the tip. Her touch pulled away, and he swallowed down a frustrated keening noise. He could just about hear movement. Something slapped down nearby. A wet noise.

And then her saliva-slick palm was grasping him firmly and jerking until Arthur’s nails scraped against the wood of his seat and his toes were curling in his boots. A sharp grunt filled the air, forcing its way out of his mouth.

“How are you handling it so far?” she drawled.

The sudden abundance of sensation was overwhelming. He didn’t know how long she’d left him without stimulation but now he had it, it was almost too much. And she seemed to know it, tracing the gun over his collarbone, against his jaw, as she kept up those merciless strokes, pausing only to run her fingers over the tip of his cock. Arthur could hear how heavy his breathing was, and he clenched his teeth, hands becoming fists.

He inhaled sharply. “Do you, _mmm_, think tha-_ah_-t touching me is…is going to, _fuck.._.”

“Going to what?” she asked, and paused to lick her hand again.

“Make me talk,” he panted.

An amused grunt was the only reply he got as the gun pushed against him again, and he felt himself shake as her grip on his cock tightened with each stroke of her hand.

She leaned forward, so close that her lips brushed against his jaw. “Would you like to find out?”

_Yes. No_. Arthur couldn’t think as her teeth scraped along his neck, his eyes fluttering shut behind the blindfold. “I don’t think you can.”

The gun pulled away from his neck, and a tongue flicked across his lower lip. Arthur jerked, gasping, as her other hand joined the first, wrapping around his cock, working the base of him as her right hand focused on the sensitive tip.

“Throwing down the gauntlet.” Those _teeth_ again. “Brave.”

Arthur could feel the tension building slowly now with every stroke of her hand. He knew himself well enough to know when he was going to spill, and even as he tried to relax, she reached down to brush her fingers through the wiry hairs that covered him, cupping and gently squeezing, fingertips lightly caressing his balls.

“If-_if_\- I were, _fuck,_ free, you,” Arthur swallowed, “you would be…in this…chair!”

“You don’t even know what I look like.” Her mouth brushed his ear. “But I know what you look like in ways so many others don’t.”

Her right hand was tight around his tip, massaging and stroking, and Arthur _felt_ it as that pressure began to build. His nails scratched the arms of the chair. His thighs trembled. Toes curling, his cock started to twitch violently.

“No.”

Her touch pulled away. Arthur strained against the chair, groaning louder than he had hoped to as the pleasure receded too soon before it had peaked. So _this_ was what she had planned.

“Do you think- _god~!_”

She cut him off with a quick, wet jerk of her hand, thumbing the now dripping slit of his tip. “I’m going to ask you the question again, Elder Maxson. You said you didn’t want this, but you seemed _so_ disappointed that I stopped. Let me try again. Do you want this?”

“You a-aren’t going to break me, _uh_, down, using j-just your h-_ands_!”

Her fingers played with the ridge beneath the tip, smearing wetness over him until he was shaking in his chair. One hand scraped nails down his chest before wrapping around the base of him.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I can keep doing this all day.”

Arthur sucked in a breath. All day…the thought of reaching that peak and falling away from it just before he got his pleasure…it made him twitch. It made him _hurt_.

“No,” he panted. “No, I don’t…you _can’t_.”

“I kidnapped you, cut open your suit, and I currently,” she stroked his shaft, “have you literally in the palm of my hand. Come again?”

He licked his lips. “Yes,” he finally breathed out. “Yes, damn you, I want this. I _want_ this.”

When she bit him again, she nibbled at his lower lip. “Yes who?” she murmured.

“Yes,” he caught his breath, “yes Ma’am.”

A soft kiss pressed against his lips, and he _moaned_.

“Good boy.”

Arthur melted against the chair as the woman’s lips and teeth marked up his neck, her hands touching and stroking his cock. There was a throbbing sensation in his shaft that he had never felt before, a _need_ that had never been so urgent.

“See how nice it is when you use manners?” she breathed.

At the very least, he could cherish that small victory. She wasn’t totally unaffected by what she was doing to him, and as he thrust his hips up into her skilled hands, her laboured breathing was obvious, the heat of her breath fanning against his neck.

“This, _hah, fuck_, w-what you,” Arthur breathed in _sharply_ as her hand sped up, “enjoy, _ma’am_?”

“I enjoy your smart mouth,” she told him, “and I’m half-tempted to see how smart it can be if I took my hand away.”

A strangled gasp escaped his mouth, just as another kiss met his neck, and the thought of her pulling away had him twitching in her grasp. He did not- he _did not-_ but her laughter was teasing and breathy as she kept it up without taking her hands off him at all. She wouldn’t. She _wouldn’t_.

“No?” she asked. “All that bluster earlier about how _I can’t do this_ and how much lip you gave me, and I bet if I moved my hand, you’d rip your arm out trying to get to yourself. Am I wrong?”

“Shut up and kiss me, _ma’am_,” he growled.

Her touch didn’t slow or soften for a moment as her mouth met his, deep and hard and _hungry._ Arthur wondered idly, as his hips jerked, just how this was affecting her. If he got free, dragged her in, would she push him away or melt in to get him to return the favour?

Arthur felt that _pressure_ again, the tell-tale _swoop_, and his nails dug _hard_ into the chair like he would fly away if he let go. Panting, he was forced to break the kiss, and he could feel the dampness of his skin clinging to what was left of his suit.

“You almost there?” she asked.

“Don’t,” he choked, “stop, don’t, _don’t-_”

Her teeth clamped down _hard_ on his neck.

Shouting in a mixture of shock, pleasure and _relief_, Arthur came. The wet heat of his own release hit his stomach but he didn’t care at all. Those hands were working him through his orgasm, slick with his cum and wrapping tighter to prolong the white hot ecstasy that was coursing through him. His thighs trembled as each spurt dripped down his skin before they relaxed, shaking like the rest of him in the wake of his peak.

The woman’s hand did not move until Arthur was frantically bucking his hips to get away from the sudden overstimulation, and as the bindings around one wrist came loose, it became too much.

“Courser,” he panted.

Nora’s touch slipped away, leaving him to recover his breath as she doubtless washed her hands of the mess he’d made.

“Do you want the blindfold off?” she asked gently.

Arthur shook his head. “Give…give me a minute.”

“Okay. Can I clean you up?”

“Yes.”

A cool, wet cloth ran over his chest, following the messy trail of seed down and wiping it from his skin. It wrapped briefly around his cock, and Arthur _groaned_, his breath catching. Nora didn’t tease him. She wiped the spend from him and then tossed the cloth aside, fingers gently and deftly undoing his restraints. A can of water was pressed into his hands, and Arthur shut his eyes as he took a drink, reaching up shakily to untie the knot of the blindfold.

Nora tugged it off for him, and Arthur blinked slowly against the light, drinking again. She leaned back against the desk where the gun and the knife were to watch him carefully. Arthur just slumped in the chair, catching his breath, and briefly glancing down at his suit. Trying to explain this to Gavil would be interesting.

“You all right?” she asked.

Arthur looked over at her, nodding as he drank the bottle dry, and when it was empty, he put it down. He could _feel_ her eyes on him, and looked up. Sure enough, she was staring, gaze roving over him, perhaps admiring her handiwork.

“Come here,” he ordered softly, and she slipped off the desk, taking the few steps necessary to reach him.

He grabbed her waist the moment she was in reach and dragged her onto his lap, ignoring her shriek of surprise to pull her in for a kiss. Nora melted against him with a soft moan, jumping the moment his palm gripped her ass.

“Arthur,” she breathed, “I need to make sure you’re unhurt.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” he told her, “but give me half an hour and you’ll be in this chair.”

Nora whimpered.


End file.
